


Rumble/Starscream

by FeeFido



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Flirting, Established Relationship, Foot Fetish, Heat Trope, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other, Size Difference, Sparks, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeeFido/pseuds/FeeFido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was originally a series, but I'm reposting them as another drabble collection because some were so short they didn't warrant their own post. Also I feel like having them all in one place is a better way to get feedback, make sure all of them get read, and maybe attract some new people to the ship. Idk.</p><p>Individual drabble ratings will be included in each chapter title. Warnings and tags will be updated as things go along. Hope you enjoy. ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Venting (T)

**Author's Note:**

> Starscream rants. What else is new.

“—AND _ANOTHER_ THING—!”

“No one appreciates you.”

“Exactly! _NO ONE_ on this Primus-damned ship appreciates the _slag_ I do for them—!”

“They don’t show you any respect.”

“None! Not as their superior, not as their Air Commander, not as their _First Fragging Lieutenant_ —!”

“And Megatron—”

“ _AND MEGATRON—!_ ”

Starscream is absolutely _livid_ , his dark lips curling back in a snarl at even the mere mention of their Leader’s name, and spitting his designation like foul degraded energon as his claws curl in front of him, like they are wrapped around the neck of a specific silver mech. He can see the gears turning over rapidly behind his burning optics, their lenses flaring like a stroked fire as another rant is readied, and he in turn readies himself.

“—that obsolete _pile of scrap_! He’s the worst of them! He never listens to my plans, or asks for my advice, _or anything!_ The only time he ever sees fit to even _acknowledge_ my presence is to either berate me in front of everyone, or - or _beat me_! Like I’m some child to be reprimanded! Like I'm not the second highest ranked mech in his whole fragging army! What those fools see in him I’ll never know, _but what I do know_ is his _total incompetency_ as Leader, and when _I come to lead the Decepticons I’ll_ —!”

He abruptly cuts himself off, stopping mid-stride in front of his berth where the lone blue and purple minicon is sitting, legs dangling over the side and watching him with an idle smirk.

The fire in his optics seems to cool to embers, and his rigid wings give an indignant twitch.

“You’re mocking me.”

Rumble raises his shoulders indifferently, though his cheesy little grin only seems to grow bigger.

“Just sayin’ what you’re sayin’.”

“Whatever.” Starscream flicked his hand through the air with a huff, as if sweeping the comment, the rant, and their entire one-sided conversation aside like it never happened, like he hadn't just been seconds away from literally exploding his processor with rage. “In any case I’m fired up now thanks to you. I need to burn this off before I find that Mega-Idiot and blow his helm off instead.”

Taking that as meaning the Air Commander is about to head out and fly, as is his usual means of handling his anger, Rumble pushes himself up to jump down off the large berth, not seeing the point in sticking around if the other mech won’t be here with him. He can always come back later.

The hand to his chest catches him off guard though, and it’s with embarrassing ease he’s shoved back down on the padded berth with a startled grunt.

Sprawled on his back and a little dazed, Rumble cranes his head up to look at the colorful Seeker standing over him, one blue servo still pinned to his chest as he carefully raises a knee up onto the berth with him.

“Who said you were going anywhere?” Starscream asks, and the slight purr to his vocalizer is unmistakable, and it sends his tiny motor revving. “ _You_ did this, now _you_ get to solve it.”


	2. Shore Leave (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream having a pretty terrible shore leave, and Rumble tries to make it better.

“ _Hey cutie_.”

Starscream’s slumped frame gives a tiny jolt of surprise, his wings jerking to attention as he’s taken off guard.

Head snapping up, he's met by the sight of Rumble grinning at him over the bar-table, where he’s suddenly sitting directly across from him with his chin in his hands and the universe’s biggest slag-eating look on his face. Like he’s just _dying_ to say something.

The Seeker scowls at him. That particular look is never a good sign, and he definitely doesn’t feel like indulging the little pest right now; he’s in a foul enough mood as it is, and he doesn’t need the other mechanism’s stupid jokes and mannerisms to make it any worse. All he wants is to be alone with himself and his drink, and enjoy his brief leave of duty while he has it, before he’s forced to return to the Nemesis and endure more of Megatron’s mind-numbing incompetence.

Regardless, he still finds himself gritting out, “what do you want?”

Rumble perks, his red optical visor giving a little flare—made all the brighter by the dim lighting inside this less than savory establishment—as his grin seems to widen even more.

“You come alone?”

In turn, Starscream’s frown only deepens, quickly turning defensive.

“ _No_ , if you must know my worthless trinemates made me come, then _left_ me when I refused to cover their tabs,” Starscream responds, bitterly muttering into his cube as he moves to take another sip of his potently glowing fuel; the burn it makes going down his intake just barely managing to overwhelm the anger he still feels at being abandoned. And for such a trivial reason as refusing to pay for the two's drinks. “Ingrates.”

“Hmph, that’s too bad.” Rumble pouts, or at least attempts to, and ruins it entirely by not being able to fully dampen his smirking. It turns the gesture into something less pitying and more mocking, and the colorful Seeker isn’t sure which he would have honestly preferred here—the cassette's poorly placed sympathy, or his unadvised mockery—but as it is he has half a processor to just stand and leave, unfinished drink or not; this isn’t the Nemesis, this isn’t his shift, he doesn’t have to force himself to endure any jokes at his expense here. This is his off time and he has every right to enjoy it, slagit.

He's just about to, too. But then there’s a tap to his knee, so subtle and soft, it takes him a moment to realize that he’s been kicked.

The look he gives him is incredulous, not sure he even felt that right. Rumble just proves him right and does it again, a little harder, and his short little leg somehow manages to connect higher up on his thigh with the quiet _ding_ of struck metal.

Starscream glowers, his face saying everything that his vocalizer doesn't; _stop_. He doesn't have the patience for whatever sparkling games he is trying to pull on him, even on a good day. And Primus knows this hasn't been a good day for him.

“ _You know_...” Rumble drawls, lips curling back into a cheesy grin.

" _What?_ " Starscream dares.

“I won't force you or nothin', but you can come with me, later tonight." The blue cassette purrs. "And I promise not to leave ya after~”

“What are you…” It takes a moment, the high grade already in his system making his sharp mind a little slow on the uptake, but as the other mech's words slowly click into place and the meaning is brought forward, a warm heat spreads across his cheeks. His optics burn indignantly, and he abruptly kicks the snickering minibot back under the table hard enough to makes the surface and his cube jump, but the sturdy Con hardly even yelps. He tries to hide it by burying his face back into his drink, but there’s no mistaking the underlying pink in his dark face, or the sputtering of his intake as he tries and fails to swallow smoothly.

He’s _embarrassed_.

“Ridiculous…”

Rumble looks on at him, victorious and knowing. His small foot nudges at his thigh again, and mechanisms at other tables _must_ be seeing, there’s so way some other mech hasn’t noticed the spectacle that is this little cassette hitting on a beautiful Seeker, and apparently  _winning_. Starscream can almost hear the muttered gossip in his audiles, and his face burns hotter under the weight of those perceived eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Rumble goads, and there’s that particular smirk back again, like he’s about to say something more.

If only to escape any prying optics—and any more terrible lines—Starscream quickly downs the rest of his cube and stands, his wings giving an agitated twitch.

“Pay for that,” Starscream snaps towards the empty cube, “and then we’ll see how agreeable I am.”

Rumble doesn't hesitate to throw a few of his own credits on the table, looking way too proud of himself as he does so, and hopes off his chair as well. Starscream is unable not to notice that it's enough for the drink, and the tip. He's able to stop himself though from being impressed.

At the very least he thinks, he’ll be getting something good out of this shore leave before returning to duty.


	3. Grasp (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Starscream giving a minicon some loving ♥

Rumble grunts as the single finger that’s been teasing at his inlet all night finally parts through the folds and slides into his valve, the stretch to his lining stinging even with the passage thoroughly lubricated after so much prepping, but it’s a sting he can and willingly tolerates— _accepts_ even—knowing what will follow. He rocks his hips into the dripping servo cupping his much smaller interface array, down onto the digit curled up deep inside him, and the Seeker laying next to him coos at the sight.

“You’re so tight,” Starscream teases, and gently circles his thumb around the small node at the apex of his valve. Even that soft touch though is enough to have the cassette’s intakes hitching sharply in pleasure. His unattended spike throbs, and a small amount of pre fluid drips between them.

“Not like I do this every cycle,” Rumble manages to grit out, but nothing more; not really caring to finish his sentence either. He’s moving now, slowly drawing his finger out and pushing even slower back inside, and his calipers grip him so tightly he’s surprised Starscream can even move at all. And he fills him so _effortlessly_ too. The few times he’s ever let anyone near his valve have always been with other cassettes and minibots his size—always wary of those larger mechs and their creepy fetishes for little ones like him—and none of those minis and their comparative equipment had ever come close to feeling like _this_ ; so intimately full, with his every node and sensor along his valve being touched and stimulated at once, firing off pleasure and heat straight into his rapidly oscillating spark.

None of them had been _Starscream_ either, and that simple change alone from the very beginning had made him wetter than any of his previous interfacing partners ever had; the evidence to that covering his thighs, the wicked blue servo between them, and the once clean berth beneath him.

He could probably overload just like this, laying on his side with the Seeker laying right along with him, venting with him, his servo tucked between his legs and his one coaxing finger thrusting inside him.

“F- _frag_ …” Rumble gasps, and his servos reach out to brace himself against the other mech’s chest as his visor flashes a startled red, the light reflecting back to him in the glossy surface of his cockpit; realizing with a sudden clarity that that’s _exactly_ what’s about to happen. He gapes back at himself, and his thighs tremble as everything draws tight, tight, so fragging _tight_. 

There’s another arm around him then, pulling him close until he’s pressed right against heated glass, and he doesn’t think, he just _clings_ as his whole frame goes rigid, and his ventilations abruptly stall.

He bucks once, lips pressed firmly to and gasping against the orange glass, and that’s it. His struts bow forward as a sudden rush of lubricants squirts between his legs, and Starscream continues to pump his servo in and out through each spasming clench, drawing it out and making the cassette’s vision white into static.

Starscream passes his thumb over his sensitive node a final time and Rumble’s hips jerk at the contact, before he’s steadily easing himself out of the smaller con’s still fluttering valve. His frame heaves against him, his plating gone slack and expanded to draw cooling air in and quickly expel it out. Sometime during his overload his spike must have gone off as well, he can feel it between them where they are still pressed firmly together, but he isn’t in the proper state of mind to care. 

He just slurs, his core processor muddled and slow in his post-overload haze, “Primus, you’re amazin’.”

Starscream snickers above his head, his claws dragging lightly up and down his heaving back, "you're weclome ~"


	4. Desk (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumble gets a little ambitious when he's drunk...

By the time they make it back to his quarters after drunkenly stumbling their way through the Nemesis Starscream is giggling like mad, his face radiating an intoxicated pink in his over-energized state, and his amiable mood makes it all too easy for Rumble to guide and coax him; not over to his berth, but to his desk. A break in the usual drunken routine which the Seeker quickly notices.

“What’re you doing?” Starscream laughs but doesn’t fight the little hands nudging at the backs of his legs as they move further into his room, shuffling more than walking.

“Jus somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ bout for a while,” Rumble slurs, sounding at once like a mech with a secret and a giddy sparkling, and it’s terribly, embarrassingly adorable.

Starscream is still giggling when his servos have to come down and brace themselves on the flat surface of his desk, slipping awkwardly in his drunken haze to find space between datapads and abandoned tools, all without knocking anything to the floor. The pleased little growl from behind him tells that he’s right where he needs to be though, and the hands still pressing insistently at him say he isn’t done yet. And the pieces click together surprisingly fast in his inebriated processor.

With an amused hum, he spreads his hands out and bends over, until his chest is touching the surface, and his aft is poised up like an offering.

“This what you want?” He purrs, his wings fluttering and his hips giving a teasing sway.

The answering grinding whir of tiny cassette spokes is all the confirmation he needs, and Starscream giggles even louder, turning his face and pressing his smirk into the crook of his arm to muffle his inelegant snorts, only for them to break off into a sharp gasp as he’s suddenly _nipped_ , right on the back of his right thigh. The sting is hardly there a moment though before a tongue is soothing over the marred spot in his paint, and the next sound being muffled into his arm is a airy moan.

His wings twitch as another, gentler bite is placed on the other thigh, lips pursing and kissing the sensitive spot, and his legs unconsciously shift further apart as one of Rumble’s hands slides slowly up his thigh. Starscream hadn’t realized just how hot he’d gotten under his plating, but, as Rumble reaches up and rubs the panel over his valve, exposed and presented as he is, that simple touch alone has him rocking back into the cassette’s palm.

He opens fast enough that he might have been embarrassed under other circumstances, but as it is he’s too primed up to care. The cold air over his exposed inlet and the small fingers teasing at his lips only serve to make him ache, reminding him of how disappointingly  _empty_ he is, and he can’t wait to change that.

Only…

“Rumble…” Starscream mumbles into his folded arms, and his next words are a shuttered, gasping mess as those teasing fingers rub tortuously over his valve entrance. “H-how do you expect to reach me, from down there…”

There’s a disappointing moment where those fingers stall, only inches in his valve—like he seriously hadn't thought that this would be a problem _before_ now—before they’re suddenly removed, and Rumble’s drunken steps can be heard waddling away. Starscream groans in annoyance, his wings hiking up so he can peer underneath them and see just what his small partner is doing instead of servicing him as he should.

His helm ducks down just in time to see Rumble, proud grin on his pink face, drop a short stool directly behind him.

Starscream has to turn his head away and stuff it back into the crook of his arm, his mind even as overcharged as it is immediately supplying him with all the myriad of ways that this could go horribly, _painfully_ , wrong, and he really does have a reason to laugh now. At the image stuck in his head of Rumble carrying that chair over his head, the stupid smile on his face, the muffled cursing and wobbling legs he can hear directly behind him; it's so stupid, and this is such a bad idea, and he really shouldn't let him...

"'Ere, problem solved." Rumble says, and he can _hear_ the triumph in his slurred voice, can picture it in his little pose as well as he stands on top of that _stupid_ chair, and either he's too drunk or Rumble has made him too kind, but he just can't bring himself to say it. Can only shake his head against his arm as murmurs back, "aren't you the little genius," and he hears the ominous creak seconds before Rumble's smaller frame drapes gracelessly over his aft, the tip of his spike parting through and just nudging the entrance to his ready valve. It's enough of a tease for Starscream press himself back, his valve clenching and that wobbly stool be damned, as his impatience finally wins out.

He can't help but taunt though, his lips pressed against his forearm in a cheek-aching grin as steadying hands grip his hips and a warm mouth kisses over his lower back, "just don't fall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Spoiler alert: the chair was not a good idea.)


	5. Flower-y (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeker-heat trope nonsense

It’s so subtle, he almost doesn’t notice at first. The warmth in the air amid the static crackling of so many meshing fields, an unknown sweetness hidden under twenty mechs worth of oil and grease, all packed onto one grumbling transport. Its presence makes the aching in his frame dull to nothing, and his lines buzz with renewed vigor, but Rumble doesn’t pay it any mind. It must be the lingering affects of battle, he thinks, knowing as soon as he settles down the pain and exhaustion will hit him like a sack of bricks.

It’s not until they’ve docked and unloaded, back inside the Nemesis, that the cassette starts to notice something is off. And even then it isn’t until many breems later, when he’s settled into the mess hall and retrieving his post-battle rations, that it finally becomes apparent. His nose crinkles, then scrunches, and he rubs the back of his arm roughly against his nasal ridge to chase away the scent that’s been lingering on for far too long, but it doesn’t dissipate. It only seems to grow stronger, faintly, but still.

“Something wrong?” Starscream asks him as he sits himself down on a stool opposite of his at the vacant table, his elbows braced against the surface as he casually sips at his own ration, not looking wholly concerned, but still watching him curiously. Rumble spares the Seeker a glance, unconsciously noting the scorch marks marring his usually pristine white paint and the many gashes slowly being melded back together by his self-repair, but he doesn’t comment.

“Yeah, no. Eugh, I think I may’ve gotten somethin’ lodged up in my olfactories,” he sniffles bitterly instead. He tries to ignore it though and drink his untouched energon—Primus knows he needs the fuel now, as banged up as he’d gotten from that fight—but his hands only make it so far before they’re quickly migrating back to his face, returning once more to rub insistently at his nose, as if he could smother the tickling sensation out of him. He growls, annoyed that it’s not doing any good, that this strange smell is still there and making his olfactory senses burn weirdly. Instead of pity, Starscream just sniggers into his cube.

Rumble glances up just in time to see Starscream shift in his seat, his wings giving a slight tilt and flutter as he watches him with hardly contained amusement, and whatever smell that’s been plaguing him immediately grows stronger. Briefly, and only moderately, but it’s there, and Rumble is smart enough to at least connect the dots.

“Hey, are you wearin’ some new polish or something?”

Starscream raises his cube for another pull of his fuel, his optics looking at him funny from over the edge of his drink. “No, can’t say I am. Why?”

“Just that you smell different, is all.”

The cube freezes just before his lips, and its glowing contents slosh at the sudden halt. Now Rumble is the one to look at him funny.

Starscream quickly saves face though by clearing his intake and lowering his cube, shaking the odd behavior off like it was nothing. He feigns casualty as he asks, “’different’ as in…?”

Rumble shrugs. “I dunno, kinda eh…” He sniffs the air, and the Commander’s wings twitch. “Flower-y?”

His optics brighten slightly, and the corners of his mouth slowly lower with his wings into a frown that doesn’t look angry, but it doesn’t look pleased either. Conflicted and confused maybe, which only serves to make the cassette confused as well. He backpeddles.

“Not that there’s anything bad about that,” he tries to ease his worries, and not really having to lie about it either. Now that he knows, or at least is pretty sure, that the scent is coming from his Seeker it’s less annoying. Just persistent. And _strong_. And very heady in the way it makes his nostrils flare and his tank warm. It makes him less inclined to try and rub it out of his olfactories, and instead _bury_ his face into that lean neck, and seek it out. “I… think you smell very nice.”

White wings flare up—and there’s that smell _again_ —and Starscream quickly downs the last of his ration before standing up. The screech of his chair across the floor causes many heads to turn their way, but Starscream doesn’t shoot any glares or tell any mech to mind their own business. He only addresses him.

“Well this was nice but I have to write my reports for Megatron now. I’ll speak with you another time.” The words are spoken so fast Rumble has to take a moment to ensure he’d heard correctly, and by that point Starscream is already walking away from him, steps quick and wings rigid behind him as several bright optics trail after.

Rumble, too dumbstruck to speak at first, manages to bleat out right before the Seeker turns the corner out of there, “a-alright! I’ll stop by later!”

The last thing he sees are the tips of his wings twitch up again, and he’s left, leaving Rumble disheartened, his olfactory still twitching, and with the quiet urge to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I wrote on tumblr that I'm not really sure if/how I should continue, but I like it enough still to post it here. It's less of a sex-crazed heat though and more just him smelling really good lol like his body going "hey, really fertile over here, come get in on this"


	6. Pet (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt a got through a meme a while ago, and I wanted to update this, so here ya go:
> 
> Starscream visits home, and brings Rumble with him ♥

“It drives me mad that no one will leave us alone!” Starscream huffs as he roughly palms the door panel to slide it shut, his field seething without even the satisfaction of slamming a door to quell it. Or the sympathy of his partner it would seem, as the same proud grin still remains on the minicon’s face as he walks further into the aerie, looking around at what is to be their dwelling for the foreseeable future; taking note of the open floor plan, high ceiling, and clear window stretching almost the entirety of the northern wall. All very obviously fitting of Vos and its residents.

Even the berth, he notices with a smirk, is much larger than any they had back on the Nemesis; the bedding almost as wide as it is long, in order to accommodate more than one pair of wings he’s sure, and the surface mesh surprisingly soft and pliable to the touch. But it’s not mesh though. Some kind of organic material he cant readily recall the name of, only that the material’s hard to come by, difficult to make, and even more expensive to purchase.

“I didn’t even get to show you the crystal gardens,” Starscream bemoans seconds before falling face-first into that priceless organic berthtop, his wings lowered and voice muffled into the thick material, “or the war academy, or the upper decks, or the winglord’s spire, all because they wouldn’t stop pestering us.”

“You know, I’ve heard you whine about a lot of things, but I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you complain about getting attention,” Rumble goads as he hefts himself up onto the large berth and clumsily crawls across the mushy surface that sinks like a sponge under his weight. Starscream’s helm turns to the side, half of it still lost in the material as he looks over and scoffs at him.

“ _Unwanted_ attention,” he growls, even as he lifts a wing just enough for Rumble to shimmy himself under, and lowers it back down like a blanket across the minicon’s frame. Rumble turns over to lay on his back, and scoffs himself when he sees yet another window to the sky directly above them, showing the orange light of the cycle winding down into night.

“But you _always_ want attention. You love it.” He teases as he rubs at the white wing draped over top of him, stroking the leading edge and gently squeezing the warm metal in his servos. It has the desired affect, and Starscream sighs heavily next to him as his body seems to sink even further into the soft berth, his wing pressing heavily into his hands in silent command for him to keep going. And he’s more than happy to oblige, massaging his wing and listening to the deep purring rumbling powerfully next to him, as he scoots over to press a little closer into his side.

After many seconds of silence Starscream eventually speaks up again, mumbling, his voice almost lost in the berthtop and the sound of his gently purring engine, “maybe I would feel differently if that attention wasn’t on the Winglord and his ‘new pet’.”

Rumble’s hands pause, and his face pinches up. “ _That’s_ what they were saying?”

Eyes that had previously closed peaked open, and Starscream stares at him with amusement in his optics.

“You didn’t know?” He asks genuinely, and giggles tiredly into his pillowed arms. “Hm, and I was wondering how you were taking it so well.”

Well, _obviously_ , if he’d known before he wouldn’t be nearly as okay with it as he was now. Was. Now he just feels annoyed, knowing that’s what was going through the mind of every Seeker that stopped them to greet Starscream, to talk to Starscream, to give Starscream gifts; none of them ever really acknowledging him beyond a glance and maybe a wave.

The wing still in his hands twitches, not to subtly telling him to continue, and Rumble grumbles bitterly as he does.

“Shoulda told me. I would’ve showed them differently.”

“Next time,” Starscream hums. “You can kiss me tomorrow at the gardens.”

That gets Rumble grinning again. “I can work with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Organic material" —a bed, like a legit, human bed lol, because Cybertron's metal and organic stuff like that is off-world and so it would make sense for stuff like that to be a luxury...
> 
> At least it makes sense to me. :)


	7. Manicure (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff for the sake of fluff ♥

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Starscream purrs as he watches the minicon seated in his lap with hooded optics, his arm resting loosely around his smaller frame while his other lays easy and relaxed in Rumble’s firm grip. Occasionally his hand will flex around his hip with the grinding of the file along his claws, but never with enough force to score the paint or the sturdy metal underneath; he would be hard-pressed to manage it now anyway, as soothed as he is. Having his claws honed by another is a luxury he hasn’t felt in a while, and the proof of that is evident in his gently purring engine and the way his hand molds like putty to the other’s surprisingly skilled ministrations. “You haven’t done this before, have you?”

“Nah, never,” Rumble answers proudly, to Starscream’s disbelief, “but I know how to sharpen a blade decently. This ain’t too different.”

“How fortunate for me.”

Rumble makes a wordless hum in response as he briefly pauses his file to drag a thumb along the tip of one of his freshly sharpened claws, examining the edge and surveying his work, his focus more on the task before him than the conversation, and Starscream preens at the attention, at having his small partner’s focus placed firmly on him. Even rarer than the pampering is the positive attention, and Starscream could always count on his little cassette to provide both.

Hit by the sudden inspiration to, he curls his claw teasingly around his smaller fingers before he can pull them away and resume his work, his own sliding through and slotting with the cassette’s easy and familiarly. Rumble is a step ahead though, and rather than wait he uses his grip to pull his hand up to his mouth, and kiss it.

Rumble looks up at him with that winning smirk, and Starscream’s wings raise and dip behind him, delighted by the warmth in his palm and the skip to his spark the simple action gives.

“ _Charmer_ ,” he murmurs, his free arm tightening around Rumble’s revving chassis and pulling him closer to his chest. His still entrapped fingers give a little wiggle in his grip, the tips of his artfully done claws just near enough still to brush those white lips, “think you’ll be just as good at painting them again for me?”

“ _Easy_.” Rumble replies smugly and releases their hands. “I’ll do ya one better and polish them after too.”


	8. Dirty Talk (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little banter at the end of the day.
> 
> I was originally going to write something kinky but I couldn't, they're being too cute.

When he returns to the Commander’s room after a long day of work and _not_  ogling his partner, he finds Starscream already on his berth, laying back with a datapad held up over his head, quietly reading.

Rumble smirks as the door closes and locks automatically behind him. He saunters over, leaving every other thought and baggage behind him at the entrance as he approaches.

“Y’know, you’re like one of those lil’ energon treats fancy hotels leave out of the berth while you’re gone.”

Starscream snorts inelegantly, “ _really_ ,” and he turns his head to watch Rumble grab the edge and lever himself up onto the berth with all the grace a stocky frame like his is able. He moves his arms out of the way in order to make room, allowing the minicon to crawl over and return to his usual position sprawled out on top of his chest; the action automatic now after so many nights of doing the same.

One servo comes down on his back, holding and petting his frame. “Does that mean you’re going to eat me like one?”

“Mmm, temptin’,” Rumble purrs, “but you know it’s not good for old mechs like me to have sweets before recharging.”

The both snicker together, and Starscream’s claws knead gently into his struts as the minicon’s cheek nuzzles the glass of his cockpit, perfectly content just to lay there, with Starscream reading and him dozing, doing their own kind of catching up after so many hours apart. And his partner is of like-mind.

“Let me know when you want to move,” Starscream says finally, leaning down to nuzzle the top of his helm before returning to his datapad. Rumble hums in response, only managing a lazy kiss to the glass under his face, as he quickly powers down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in case people don't know/haven't gathered, Rumble is older than Starscream.
> 
> Like, way older.


	9. Something Different (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from tumblr: "Trust me. It'll be good."

He sat perched on the edge of the berth while the cassette sat on a short stool closer to the floor, leaving him at the perfect height for one shined and polished heel to be propped up on his lap, like a small pedestal.

“Trust me. It’ll be great.”

Rumble gave Starscream a wary look over the Seeker’s foot.

“And you’re sure this ain’t gonna burn my servos,” he asks, even as his hands move to touch this oddly unfamiliar territory on a well-explored frame. First just the tip of Starscream’s pede, only squeezing the blue metal under his hand and still getting a small sigh from his Seeker, before his fingers quickly move down the sole to get to where he’s really needed.

At the first brush of his finger on the side of his thruster Starscream sighs again, louder, and his engine purrs encouragingly as he shifts eagerly on the berth.

“Oh yes, I promise,” he answers and his wings give a delighted shiver as a thumb experimentally circles the rim of his heel, “I have more control than you give me credit.”

Rumble glances up again, just as small digits come together to pinch the very edge, and Starscream makes a small pleasured gasp as his hips do a little roll over the berth. His legs fall open and his thighs part for but a moment, and Rumble can see just enough to know that his panel is still closed, but it doesn’t matter; he can feel the thrum of arousal already beginning to beat through Starscream’s pulsing field, can imagine Starscream already getting anxiously wet behind that stubbornly sealed metal, and it has his own field beating back in turn.

“Well, if there was ever a time to prove that…” Rumble responds, the challenge a quiet purr in his voice, and his fingers trace around the heel twice more before daring to dip inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heel fingering is a thing okay.


	10. Peek (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something taken off my tumblr that was a prompt fill for the word "Shimmer". I just wanted to update this to give this pairing more attention so maybe I can inspire other people to write some stuff for this ship too. Because it needs content, people. It desperately need content. And not my shitty content either.

The blue arms around Rumble's frame loosened slowly, the apprehension palpable in their conjoined fields as it steadily slipped away.

“I should be leaving now, you have work to do…”

And Rumble had taken those arms without hesitation and wound them possessively back around his chest, his field spreading and chasing back for it's mate, insistent and strong as he locked their mismatched servos together.

“Nah, stay. You make this drone-work not suck so much shaft.”

And he held for but a moment. Then, a tremble, through the air and through their bodies. He felt the pulse ripple through their fields before it happened, warmth and static blooming against his back and over his frame before a sharp click meets his audiles, and the solid body he’s leaning against abruptly splits. Rumble jolts, and Starscream gasps, and the cassette turns sharply in his lap before he can be stopped to see what happened.

He isn’t sure what he was expecting. But when the pale light flashes across his visor, optic-level with him, warm and shimmering and drawing him in like a lure on a line, his processor blanks and every other thought blinks away. His grip loosens on the servos wound with his fingers, his mouth parts stupidly, but no words come out of him. Beneath his visor he looks up at Starscream’s face, and sees the shock and horror in the Seeker's own flaring eyes.

Just as quickly as it appeared though the tiny crack in the amber glass abruptly seals again, closing and hiding away the light within.

When Starscream's field retreats again it’s hurried and panicked, the humiliation burning against Rumble’s confusion before it all breaks away and Starscream is untangling their hands and lifting him off of his lap to stand. Whether it’s the daze in his processor, the shimmer of pale light still dancing in his optics, or the shock he feels thrumming in his own, Rumble doesn’t fight it when he's set on the floor on his feet.

Starscream leaves then, and it isn’t until after several kliks of silence that it all finally catches up to him, and the reality sets in, that Starscream had shown him his spark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is so hungry for love like,
> 
> Rumble: You make this job not suck dick  
> Star: [figuratively throws his legs open] TAKE ME NOW


End file.
